


here comes the rain again, falling from the stars

by MotherKarizma



Series: here comes the sun [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, Everyone Loves Peter Parker, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Past Drug Addiction, Peter Parker Has Issues, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Avengers, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, completed series, for soon you will Not Be Laughing, lightly implied/background stucky, some humor but don't get too comfy with it, the avengers would cut a bitch for peter parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22810339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherKarizma/pseuds/MotherKarizma
Summary: Something sharp dug into his chest as he inhaled, scrolling through the news feed on his phone only to find article after article of,Have Captain America and Winter Solider Adopted a Child?Peter Parker, High School Dropout: Tony Stark’s Newest Project?The Mystery Avenger: Everything You Need to KnowIs There a New Avenger in Town?Each one bore another blurred, low-quality photo of himself, looking out of place and nervous, clinging to Steve’s arm for dear life as they walked. He couldn’t help but wonder if anybody from his old life was scrolling through their news feed in shock, too. If Ned and MJ were watching from afar, confused and wondering.“They didn’t even get my good side,” Peter joked weakly, because if he didn’t laugh he feared he might cry.-----The entire world digs into the identity of this random teenager photographed walking Union Square with two Avengers. Peter panics.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: here comes the sun [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633516
Comments: 58
Kudos: 1021
Collections: Spider-Man Public Identity Reveal, The Best Peter Parker Whump Fics, ellie marvel fics - read





	here comes the rain again, falling from the stars

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE TO NEW READERS: this is the sixth work in a 12-part series! i highly recommend reading the previous works first, then returning to this one, as this work makes little to no sense as a stand-alone.
> 
> hey guys! i wasn't expecting this one to be ready until friday since i don't have as much time to write on weekdays, but i worked on it during my lunch break and it cooked up quicker than i thought. enjoy!
> 
> [green day - wake me up when september ends](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ulRXvH8VOl8)  
> \\\here comes the rain again  
> falling from the stars  
> drenched in my pain again  
> becoming who we are//

"Fifty-five...fifty-six...fifty-seven..."

Tony entered the room and immediately halted, tilting his head up inquisitively toward the ceiling where a sullen eighteen year old sat cross-legged and counting.

He took a deep breath as if preparing to speak, paused, then exhaled in a sigh.

“I’m not even gonna ask.”

Natasha, seated with legs curled beneath her, said without looking away from a rerun of _The Bachelor,_ “He’s bored.”

“So he’s…counting my ceiling tiles?”

Peter, too, sighed. His was woeful and infused with childish drama. "Sixty-seven...sixty-eight...sixty-nine..."

Clint snorted into his coffee. “ _Heh._ Sixty-nine.”

“Hey!” Tony elbowed Clint roughly as he dropped onto the couch beside him. “Watch it. There’s a child present.”

“Seventy-two–“ Peter paused to fix his mentor with an upside-down glare. “I’m not a _child._ Seventy-three…”

“I meant Clint himself, but if the shoe fits.” Tony quirked an eyebrow at him. “Seriously, PJs, what the hell are you doing? Is this some sort of high-concept millennial political protest I’m too boomer to understand?”

“I’m not a millennial – and you’re actually not a boomer. Get your generations straight. Seventy-seven…”

“I think what I need to _get_ is the broom.”

With no shortage of exaggerated anguish, Peter dropped from the ceiling and landed silent and skilled on his feet. “Didn’t you hear Nat? I’m _bored._ ”

“Kid, you live in an AI-wired tower full of superheroes. There’s millions of dollars’ worth in technology that the general public has no access to on this floor alone. If I hear you say you’re ‘bored’ one more time, I swear, I’ll shut off the WiFi.”

Natasha snapped her head toward him, eyes ablaze. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“I’ve been stuck in here for weeks,” Peter said, not giving Tony the chance to respond to Nat’s anger with anything more than a nervous gulp. “I want to go, you know, _outside_ the Tower. The outside world still exists, right? Fresh air? Clouds? Are those still a thing? I don’t think I remember what clouds look like.”

Tony nodded toward the floor-to-ceiling window that made up the common room’s entire northern wall. “There you go.”

“This is cruel and unusual punishment.”

“It’s not a punishment,” Tony said. “I’m not – _punishing_ you. I’m being cautious. Aren’t you still having cravings?”

Peter sat on the floor and rested his chin on his knees with a mildly offended pout. “I have more self-control than that! I didn’t take anything the last time I left.”

“The last time you ‘left,’ you ran away. You’re not exactly helping your case here.”

Steve – who, despite getting off to a rough start with Peter, was for all intents and purposes his guardian angel against Tony’s overprotective nature – entered the room with perfect timing. He gave Peter a kind smile.

“Did you want to get out of the Tower? Bucky and I are going to check out that farmer’s market in Union Square. You could come with us.”

Peter immediately straightened up, looking to Tony with bright and begging eyes. Before he could even ask the question, Tony said, “He’ll pass.”

“Aw, come _on_ , Mister Stark!”

“The answer is _no._ You’re not going anywhere until this whole post-acute-whatever thing is done with.”

“But Bruce said it might last for months! I can’t stay in the Tower for _months!_ ”

“Tony,” Steve said, donned in his most diplomatic persona. “You can’t honestly expect a teenage boy to go upwards of six months without any sunlight. Let him go and get some energy out.”

Again, Tony gestured toward the gigantic window. “There’s sunlight right there!”

“He wouldn’t leave my sight for a second. I don’t think he’d even try. He’s given us no reason not to trust him.”

Tony glanced between the two of them, from Peter’s wide and desperate eyes, the obvious excess energy displayed in his fidgety hands, and Steve’s relaxed, unconcerned demeanor.

“I trust you,” he said to Peter, voice ever so slightly softer. “It’s not that I don’t. I’m just…”

“I’m not made of glass, Mister Stark.”

Tony rubbed a hand down his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I know you’re not.”

“So I can go?”

“I didn’t say that–“

Bucky came in behind Steve and stared at Peter with crossed arms. “If he tries anything stupid, I’ll break his legs.”

Tony blinked. “Oh, that’s comforting. The exact antithesis of protecting him. Just what I wanted. Thank you.”

“We’ll be gone for three hours, tops,” Steve said. “Consider it a trial run.”

“Not that I don’t trust you with him, Capsicle, but Peter will leave this Tower with you and Chuck Norris over there when pigs fly.”

* * *

In the center of the bustling Union Square, Peter looked up at the sky and smirked. “Hm. That’s strange.”

“What’s strange?” Steve asked.

“I don’t see any pigs.”

“I do.” Bucky nodded toward a nearby butcher’s stand as they passed, wedged between a florist and an elderly woman selling knitted baby booties. “But they sure as hell ain’t flying.”

“My negotiation skills have peaked,” Peter said proudly.

Steve looked at him with furrowed brows. “You didn’t negotiate anything. Nat threatened to stab everyone in the room with a rusty fork if Tony didn’t send you away so she could watch Brittany and Nicole’s cat-fight in peace.”

“Can’t you let me have this one?”

Steve looked away, smiling, and shook his head in faux exasperation. In spite of himself, Peter smiled, too.

The sun was just as warm and invigorating against his skin as he’d hoped it would be. He hadn’t exactly been in the right state of mind to enjoy the sensation last time he’d felt it, and now, knowing there was a slim chance he’d be exposed to much more direct sunlight in the coming months, he was determined to soak every UV ray in and hold it tight.

His enhanced senses in the environment of a farmer’s market were both a blessing and a curse. Peter could smell every fresh rose, every popped-open sampler jar of honey, every ripe apple. The colors of paintings and fruit cornucopias were bright and intoxicatingly vivid – a contrast to the sleek but monotonous interior of the Tower. Sure, the noise was a little much, but as long as he stayed tuned into the small-talk murmurs of Steve and Bucky, who he was securely entrenched between, it wasn’t unbearable.

As they wound slowly through the booths, though, Peter began to realize that tuning out his surroundings might not have been a fantastic idea. It took him approximately ten minutes to catch the subtle staring from various faces amongst the crowd, the phone cameras pointed in their direction for brief flashes of time before passing bodies obscured them, the occasional whisper of, _are those the Avengers? Oh my God, is that Captain America? Sarah, look, it’s the Avengers–_

“Uh – guys?” Peter murmured nervously, pressing in closer to Steve’s side.

Steve was stiff against him. “I know. People do that a lot. It’s…annoying. Harmless, though, I promise. They’re just curious.”

Curious about the Avengers? Sure. Peter could understand that. At age fifteen, if he’d seen Captain America and the Winter Soldier strolling in street clothes through a farmer’s market, he would have whipped out his phone, too. But he saw the directions of their lenses and wide eyes closer, more in-depth, in a way Steve and Bucky couldn’t. Most of those people weren’t focused on the two Avengers in their presence.

They were focused on _him._

“I don’t want to…” Peter swallowed hard. “I don’t want to ruin your plans or anything, but could we, like, maybe go home?”

Bucky frowned. “Yeah. If you’re uncomfortable.”

_–that kid with them? Did they adopt a teenager or something? Weird –_

_–looks kind of like–_

“They’re talking about me,” Peter said quietly. “I can hear them. People are talking about me. I want to go home.”

Steve gripped his arm tight. “Hey – don’t panic. It’s alright. We’ll go.”

“I’m really sorry. I’m not trying to ruin–“

“You’re not ruining anything,” Steve assured him. “The attention can be a lot. I understand. We’ll drop you off at the Tower and come back later, if you really want to leave. But I promise, nobody here is talking about you. You’re probably just overthinking it.”

“Yeah.” Peter laid a hand on the arm Steve placed around him, tethering himself to safety. “Yeah, I probably am.”

* * *

As it turned out, he wasn’t.

Something sharp dug into his chest as he inhaled, scrolling through the news feed on his phone only to find article after article of, _Have Captain America and Winter Solider Adopted a Child?_

_Peter Parker, High School Dropout: Tony Stark’s Newest Project?_

_The Mystery Avenger: Everything You Need to Know_

_Is There a New Avenger in Town?_

Each one bore another blurred, low-quality photo of himself, looking out of place and nervous, clinging to Steve’s arm for dear life as they walked. He couldn’t help but wonder if anybody from his old life was scrolling through their news feed in shock, too. If Ned and MJ were watching from afar, confused and wondering.

“They didn’t even get my good side,” Peter joked weakly, because if he didn’t laugh he feared he might cry.

Tony reached across the dinner table and took the phone from his hand. “Kid. What did I tell you about reading all that bullshit? Stop worrying. Give it a week, and they’ll all find something new to gossip about.”

Peter’s fingers twitched toward the phone. He looked at it longingly, looked at Tony somewhat desperate. “What if they don’t?”

What if they kept this up? What if the slew of journalists who imitated pariahs for a living kept their sights set on him? What if they dug and dug and dug until they found Spider-Man?

And, even if they didn’t, even if they did eventually get bored of him and move along, it wouldn’t change the fact that his name and face had been plastered all over the internet. The articles and tweets and memes would still be there. He’d never casually and nostalgically walk the streets of Queens again, not without being stared at and whispered about and photographed. He couldn’t undo this. The damage was done.

“They will,” Tony said firmly, the only noise in the unusually quiet dining area other than the occasional ding of fork against plate. “Trust me, PJs. I’ve been in your shoes more times than I can count. Nothing holds their interest for long if you don’t feed into it.”

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Steve said. “I shouldn’t have invited you out with us. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

Tony shot him a glare that didn’t hold much heat. “I hate to say ‘I told you so’ – well, I love it, actually, but…”

“It’s not your fault, Captain Rogers.” Peter dropped his head into his hands, staring down at his untouched plate of pasta, and exhaled shakily. “I was the one who kept whining about wanting to get out of the Tower.”

“Nuh-uh. Cut it out, kid. We’re not gonna turn this into the blame game. Just – _breathe._ Alright? Stop reading this garbage, or I really _will_ cut out the WiFi.”

Peter spared a glance at Natasha. This time, she made no protest at the idea. She gave him a small smile instead.

“Yeah.” He picked up his fork and took a slow, mechanical bite. “Okay. It’s fine. It’s gonna be fine.”

“That’s the spirit.”

* * *

Peter knew Tony was serious when he told him to put the phone down and stop agonizing over every link, every photo, every joke sent out into the world about him. He even knew there was a way, probably, for Tony to know that he’d stayed up lying sleepless in his bed until three in the morning doing exactly that, the glow of the screen haunting him in an otherwise dark room.

But he didn’t think Tony would _actually_ turn off the WiFi.

“Mister Stark,” he said with the burgeoning start of a whine rising up his throat as he trudged messy-haired and bleary-eyed into the common room the next morning, too-long pajama pants pooling at his ankles. “Why’d you do that?”

Tony paused, stylus hovered over the tablet in his lap, and squinted questioningly at him. “I do a lot of shit. You’re gonna have to be a little more specific.”

“You turned the WiFi off. I didn’t think you would actually do it.”

And Peter saw it. Tony might not have realized the shift was visible, but it was – he saw the walls go up, the carefully constructed look of forced calm that settled on his face, betrayed only by the tiniest gleam of worry and fear still lodged in his eyes.

“I didn’t turn it off,” Tony said nonchalantly – far too nonchalantly, if you asked Peter. “Dumbass mesh routers did that all on their own. I’ve got some guys downstairs fixing it right now. Should be up and running soon.”

“You can build multi-million dollar super suits but you can’t make the WiFi work?” Peter groaned and flopped face-down on the loveseat. “Mister Stark, I’m _suffering._ ”

“Suffering?” Tony snorted. “From what?”

“A crippling lack of dank memes.”

“Your _dank memes_ – whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean – will still be there later. Why don’t you do something that doesn’t require an internet connection for once?”

“Like what? Count the ceiling tiles again?”

“I am literally begging you to not do that.”

Peter lifted his head and threw his hands up in frustration. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

* * *

Lucky for him, Tony had a whole list of fun, WiFi-free activities.

“This sucks,” Peter panted, sweat soaking through his shirt as he crouched and tried to catch his breath on the soft-matted floor of the training room.

Nat regarded him dryly. “It’s been ten minutes.”

“And those ten minutes have _sucked_.”

“Only because you’re getting your ass kicked.”

Peter staggered to his feet with a wince. “Am I supposed to be learning something from this? Because I don’t feel like I’m learning anything.”

“Of course you are. You’re learning how to get your ass kicked.”

* * *

The next suggested activity was, at least, something Peter had an interest in.

He’d been trying for _weeks_ to get Steve to sit down and watch _Star Wars: A New Hope_ with him ever since discovering the Captain had yet to see more than passing glimpses of the series. Some meeting, mission, or other Avengers-related task always seemed to get in the way.

“We’re actually going to watch it this time?” Peter asked skeptically, even as he settled cross-legged on the couch with a bowl of popcorn in his lap. “Like… _actually?_ No interruptions?”

“No interruptions,” Steve said, and even made a point of silencing his phone and setting it out of reach to seal the deal.

And, sure, it was kind of hard to focus on the movie with Steve leaning over to ask a thousand and one questions every five minutes. But that was okay. Peter had already seen the film more times than he could count on all his fingers and toes combined – and, besides, he was _watching Star Wars with Captain America._ Nothing could dampen his spirits in light of that.

“Are this Luke fellow and Leia gal going to become romantically involved?”

Peter winced. “Uh. Spoilers.”

* * *

It became cemented in Peter’s mind that Tony was trying to keep him busy, distracted, when he called Steve into his lab for ‘emergency top-secret Avengers stuff’ (which was weird, considering the city didn’t appear to be under attack) and left him in the clutches of Clint.

“So then, I aimed for the last dude’s fucking throat and – bullseye! And _then_ …”

Peter, pale with queasiness, held up a hand and gulped. “Mister Barton, I really… _really_ don’t need to hear anymore.”

Clint looked – or pretended to look, Peter suspected – crestfallen. “But I was just getting to the good part!”

“If we still haven’t gotten to the ‘good part’ yet, I can almost promise you I’m going to end up hurling all over your shoes.”

Clint snapped his mouth shut and grabbed the remote. “You like Star Wars, right? Let’s watch Star Wars.”

Peter endured his second round of _A New Hope_ in utter relief.

* * *

And now things were _really_ starting to get ridiculous.

“Why do you have to supervise me loading the dishwasher?” Peter grumbled as he rinsed plates beneath the running water. “No, I have a better question: why hasn’t Mister Stark built a robot for the specific purpose of loading the dishwasher?”

Sam, seated on a stool at the breakfast counter, said without looking up from his book, “You’re telling me. It’s not like everything else around here isn’t automated. Even the damn toilets talk to you.”

Peter had ordered FRIDAY to mute his suite’s toilet on his second night in the Tower. “Don’t remind me.”

As he loaded the silverware, Peter eyed Sam and his supposed interest in _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea_ with the utmost suspicion _._ He was positive he’d never seen Sam so much as glance at classic literature, let alone read it with such intense focus.

That, and also – “Mister Wilson?”

“Hm?”

“You’re holding the book upside down.”

Sam silently turned the novel right-side up and feigned a thoughtful nod.

With a heavy sigh, Peter started the dishwasher.

* * *

“You’re not supposed to go down there,” Bucky said, lips curled into a grimace of frustration as he followed Peter down the second floor’s winding corridors.

“Why not?” Peter shot back, equally as pissed. “If you guys have nothing to hide, then why am I not allowed in the lab? I’m _always_ allowed in the lab.”

“You’re not today.”

“ _Why?_ ”

Apparently, Bucky had no answer for that – though it seemed more likely to Peter that he had an answer and wasn’t allowed to share it. The man only growled beneath his breath as he gripped Peter’s shoulder tight with metallic fingers.

Peter pulled away with ease and pushed his way through the lab’s double doors.

Seated at a large work table, Tony and Steve were hunched over the same tablet Tony had been glued to all day. On the screen, a web browser was open. Tony hastily turned the device upside down when he glanced up to see Peter storming into the room, but the damage had been done. The brief flash of panic across both men’s faces at the sight of him didn’t help much.

“Weird how the WiFi is only down on _my_ phone,” Peter said with crossed arms and a straight back. “Doesn’t that seem weird to you guys? Do you think your router-fixer-men happen to know anything about that? And, oh – somebody probably should have warned Captain Rogers that Disney Plus uses the internet.”

Tony’s schooled expression might have once fooled Peter. Now, he knew better. It was complete and utter bullshit.

“Look, I know you’re eager to get back to your dank memes and all, but–“

Peter couldn’t help it: he exploded. “How _stupid_ do you think I am? I know you’re hiding something from me!”

Steve started, placating, “We’re not hiding anything, son–“

“No.” Tony sighed and lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Don’t bother, Capsicle. The kid’s right. Honestly, I’m surprised we got more than an hour out of him. Thought he’d have stormed in here by noon.”

“I tried to stop him,” Bucky said.

Tony waved him off. “I know you did. Valiant effort, but it was a lost cause. He’s gonna find out sooner or later.”

All the anger that Peter had felt thrumming so strong only moments before vanished, leaving only a vague sense of fear behind. “Mister Stark. Please. What’s going on? Why don’t you want me online?”

He knew, of course. Every piece of the scattered puzzle clicked into place in a millisecond. But he wanted to hear it from Tony, wanted it confirmed before he fell headlong into the abyss.

“Can I talk to him alone?” Tony asked, turning bone-weary eyes on Steve. He continued when Steve took a breath to protest, “ _I know_. I know. Just let me do it, alright? I think this will…be easier coming from me.”

Peter’s heart dropped into his stomach and settled there like a rock. “Mister Stark.”

“Sit down.” Tony gestured to the vacated seat next to him as Steve and Bucky slowly, hesitantly left, Steve shooting a sympathetic glance over his shoulder as they went. The silent look screamed, _I’m so sorry._

Peter sat. He knew, though. He knew. When Tony turned the tablet back over to show a stream of article after video after article after tweet, it didn’t come as any surprise.

_Local Queens Hero and Newest Avenger Recruit is a Teenage Dropout?_

_Spider-Man Uncovered: See the Face Behind the Mask_

_Spider-Man’s Identity Revealed!_

The chasm opened up, coaxing him to fall.

Peter did.

**Author's Note:**

> leave you on a cliffhanger? me? never (:


End file.
